“No.” He could drive her crazy with lust though. “Are you? Ticklish, I mean.”
“Afraid not.” His hand traced across her rib cage, constructing a sensual bubble around them.
Connor took such care with her, made her feel treasured and desired. The contrasts with her previous lovers brought the realization she’d allowed them to shortchange her, allowed them to take what they wanted from her without demanding equal time for herself.
“Touch my breasts,” she suggested.
“My thoughts exactly. That was next on my list.”
Maggie spluttered in half laughter and half disbelief. “You don’t have a to-do list.”
“Don’t I? How do you know?” His mouth closed over her earlobe, the faint play of teeth sending messages of pure delight skittering through her. Then he peeled back one bra cup and stroked her puckered nipple with the back of his hand. One finger ran around her nipple and around again. His finger diverted to stroke the small bruise he’d left on the upper curve of her breast during the weekend.
“I like seeing my mark on you,” he said.
Maggie shuddered, her head falling back, eyes squeezing shut while she gathered sensations to recall later when she was alone. His fingers rolled her nipple before tugging. The sensation grew until it was almost painful, but it was a good pain. It echoed in her pussy, a short jolt of desire.
“Connor.”
“Do you like that? A little bit of pain in your loving?”
“I don’t know.” She wet her lips. “I like that, so I must. Does that make me weird?” Her stomach fluttered while she waited for his reply. She scanned his face and saw no disgust. She saw nothing except intense interest. Desire.
“You’re not weird.” He laughed. “What would you say if I said I’d like to shave your pubic hair so you’re nice and soft? So you’d feel every flicker of my tongue, every stroke of my fingers. Would that make me weird?”
Maggie thought about that for two seconds. “Yes,” she breathed, unbearably turned on by the request.
His stroking finger stilled. “Yes, I’m weird?”
“Yes, you can shave me. I like the idea.”
Connor laughed again, a strange expression on his face.
“You’re teasing me.” Maggie pulled away, hurt and embarrassed. “You didn’t mean it.” She wrapped her arms around herself, a form of armor, and backed away until the countertop halted further retreat.
“Don’t, Maggie.” Connor blocked her from moving. He hugged her so hard she felt the ridge of his cock prodding her stomach. “I was joking, but your reaction has convinced me.”
“I don’t think so.” Maggie’s voice emerged stiff with a touch of anger. “Let me go.”
“Dammit, I’m an ass,” he muttered. He stopped teasing and kissed her, really kissed her, exploring and savoring her mouth like a fine glass of wine.
The fight seeped out of her and she clung to him, desire grabbing her with an urgent tempo, the hunger between them razor-sharp. When Connor pulled away, they were both breathing hard and color highlighted his cheekbones.
“I want you.”
“Yes,” Maggie agreed. “The bedroom.”
“Not yet,” he said. “Let’s stoke the fire a little hotter first.” With competent hands he unfastened the pearl buttons on her white blouse. Her bra, already askew, held one breast while the other pebbled in the cool air. “I want to taste you, explore more before we end up in the bedroom. Some things shouldn’t be hurried.”
He dipped his head and licked her bared nipple. Wetness pooled between her thighs with each of his kisses and touches until an achy sensation filled her pelvic region. She craved his delectable body.
His mouth closed over her nipple and sucked. Maggie fought a whimper and clenched her thighs together. Her hands crept up to his head, and she leaned back on the counter, Connor following without letting up on his ministrations.
“Connor, that feels good.”
He lifted his head and stared at her wet nipple. “God, I love the way you respond.”
“Can we move this to the bedroom?”
